We all carry our own secrets, our own scars, some self inflicted others caused from an outside hand. Mental or physical, the world can see them all. The world may not no why, but it sure does know its there. We push the secrets, the regrets, the wounds, the scars, into corners in hopes one day they will be forgotten. From all the pushing and hiding, we become known most for those things we wish no one could see. And no one knows why they are there, but everyone knows why you are here. Once we are defined, we search, we pray, we beg for normality, for innocence. In the process of begging, and pleading, we become bitter and realize nothing will ever be what it used to be. And when we finally want to move forward instead of trying to moving back, we've reached an old age and all we can do now is dream of what could have been ours.

Yes I have scars and yes I want more, they make me who I am and remind me who I never want to be. Every morning breath is a blessing, every soft touch is a gift, every harmful grasp is a lesson, and all your true forgiving is a door open leading to where ever you wish to go.

Give the world love and let go of all regret, at the end of life you'll thank everyone for what they've done.